


To Find A Giant and Love Thereafter

by Brorito_Dorito_Daddy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Not Related, M/M, Stridercest Secret Santa, Tagged as both Bro and Dirk because it's interchangable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17155943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brorito_Dorito_Daddy/pseuds/Brorito_Dorito_Daddy
Summary: Dirk is a wandering swordsman, with a unique tree-transformed blade. Trekking along the countryside with an orphan Dave in tow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dutch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dutch/gifts).



> Merry Crisis Dutch! I hope you like this present!

 

It’s not one of your biggest missions, but terror in the eyes of the villagers as they proclaim the calamity that befell the land as the monster roams makes it seem more of a hassle than it has any right to be.

The Howling Mountainwalker, they called it. Landrender.

Dave, beside you backs away slowly from the anxious sea of people pleading for salvation. His words trying to reach their ears that all will be taken care of and they’re going to check it out right now. You’re already heading in the direction they said it was last spotted. Hilly plains both open and obscuring your sight from what lies afar.

Soon enough, Dave breaks from the crowd and rejoins your side. Leather satchel carrying mixtures lightly brushing and clacking with his run. His head bowed, flustered.

“I’m not leaving them to suffer if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I know!” Dave exclaims, springing up straight. He seems to bite his tongue for a second, then corrects,

“I know. They’re just-...”

“Desperate.” you finish. He nods, something like that. After a beat, you offer him a quiet ‘thank you’ for quieting the villagers. You were never good at words, let alone comforting ones. But Dave had a way with people, whether he realizes this or not. Which you assume is something he is not aware of; coming out of conversations quiet and meek. Perhaps something imbued from his time as a orphan boy.

“So…” Dave moves in closer, brushing against your side and keeping his voice soft, “what will you do?”

 

* * *

 

After long hours of wandering the hills in search of a giant, the day grows old. Sun beginning to leave for the crest of the horizon. Precious light taking an amber hue. Just when you're near the end of your patience -and Dave, dragging his feet behind you, at the end of his spirit-, something unnoticed becomes a lot harder to ignore.

The ground thunders; footfalls.

You come to a stop, looking around for the source of the noise. But Dave's sharp inhale of breath alerts you to the monster is already visible. You turn, eastward.

Lording over the plains, at least 10 meters tall, roams a giant of the mountain variant. It's skin is jagged, with bits of stone clinging to the legs. But it's all scared up, chunks missing, head held low. It comes at you with almost irritable slowness, but nevertheless focused. You've held a reverence for these living-land creatures, and their usual passive and peaceful ways, so instead of readying your sword, you wait.

A second look over brings you something akin to pity for the mountain protector. Wandering across the plains, far from it's home. And looking so battered you'd guess it's had more than a few encounters with shocked humans. But it seems like you are the only one feeling this way: Dave hissing to you worriedly, however intelligible over the growing footfall of the approaching giant.

 

A good several meters away, it comes to a stop. Planting it’s feet and bellowing out a great roar. Loud enough to make you flinch and bring your hands to your ears. Dave presses into your side fervently, trying to block out the sheer volume of it. Is it a warning? Or a war cry?

 

As soon as the noise stops, you try to stand tall again. Finding words to assure the giant that you bear no ill intent just yet. But as you raise your voice, it has already raised a wide, heavy hand into the sky.

 

Slow as it is, you still have barely a moment to grab Dave and flash out impending flattening. The ground trembles behind you. Not a second to spare as you slide to a halt, set Dave down again, and draw your sword as you’re tossed a small vial of acid. In one fluid motion, your blade is out, the vial is caught, and swiftly crushed against the blade. The heat flows, your sword gaining corrosive properties as the liquid sinks in.

 

As the giant readies to take a swing, you’re already running towards it, moving in close to sweep under its legs as the rush of air just over your head makes your hairs stand on end.

 

Nice and neat slashes to what can be assumed as the ankles of the giant. The blade gushes acid in excess for every cut you make. Hissing against the rock skin. Your remorse for such actions lessens the depth of cuts, but nonetheless effective as they deepen slightly with the corrosion. Now to slip out again and knock it over.

 

Dave sprints past. Loud jangling of everything on his person and the unexpectedness of his approach distracts you from the huge hand of stone that follows. The giant reaching between its legs to chase after the boy, but brushing against you in the process. The hand closes with surprising quickness, you’re crushed into its grip, barely able to let out a scream before you’re lifted into the air.

 

After a bout of desperate wiggling that leaves you even more panicked for breath, you find yourself right before the giants face. A ways below, Dave yells where you can’t; a cry rings in your ears and makes your blood boil.

 

With that, a hiss starts up again. Your sword pressed against your body heats up once more. The giant lets up, only slightly, with the burn against its skin. This is your only window to make it out before it breaks any bones.

 

Your second attempt at wriggling out, aided by the corrosion in the giant's hand, gradually giving you space to take a better hold of your sword and kick upwards. Once, twice pushing off the rock before you’re free. Suddenly tumbling forward over the giant's hand and falling with the least amount of grace any swordsman can have to the ground. Blade thudding alongside you, heat dissipating.

 

You’re scrambling to your feet, taking up your weapon again, but instead of giving the giant a piece of your mind, you’re sprinting towards Dave who just barely peaks out from a small hill on the far side, on his knees and cowering.

 

You’re almost there, he’s just peeking his head up from between his legs, then his eyes go wide. No time to look back, you feel the ground shake the next moment.

 

The very earth shatters into pieces.

 

You’re being thrown into the air once more as the plane you’re standing on flings wildly bucks and crumbles. Your sight of Dave is obscured for an instant, but the next a hand juts out, waving wildly. You’re fighting against the slope and earthquake, deep cuts forming into small chasms. A great groan that seems to originate from the mother of earth herself, everything is breaking apart.

 

You take the next buck of soil to leap off and hop quickly towards Dave, bounding where he clutches to the grass. So close, but another groan and everything intensifies. You’re thrown forward off your feet, just a mere meter to Dave now. But he’s already sliding into the maw of the earth.

 

No time to think, take your sword and thrust it out. A hand quickly clings to the blades edge, weight precarious over the precipice. Stay strong the tremors are falling still now. But he slips. Just a fraction and his hand reflexively tightens on the blade, crying out in pain and fear. A shock so unbearably hot jolts through your veins up the sword and suddenly you’re lifting everything high of your head and casting it into the air. A tremendous show of hysterical strength. The earth stops moving. Dave and your sword land a ways away, a heavy _shunk_ and jingle.

 

You take up your sword again. Although partially obscured by dirt and fragments of the giant's skin, there is no mistaking the fracture branching up the blade, originating exactly from where Dave had taken hold. A dull red stain among the filth.

"Dave..." you're visibly tensing up. Rising to face the boy on the ground, who has only now started to get to his feet. Your sword raises, not pointing, but brandishing. For when Dave looks up and sees the stain he made, and the crack that followed, his eyes flicker up to your countenance. All emotions laid bare upon your expression: Vexation, confusion, fear.

"What did you _do_?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now from Daves point of view

Once the sun has completely set, you're camped out a good few acres from the grave of the quested enemy. In a little decline made from surrounding knolls, a campfire crackles. Sparks glow like angry fire bugs. However there is no aroma of cooking and a distinct lack of citrus scented cover as the blade remains in present form, cradled in Dirk's arms. He has remained as such for the past hour or so, scrutinizing the fractions. Without breaking his stare for even a moment, his face grows ever more intense.

Should you say something? The anxiety grows in your belly, hastened by the absence of food. It's, your fault. You're sure the reason the blade has cracked was your doing, although it's a mystery how.

 

You glance at the palm of your hand. A fresh red scar splits it open, dried blood cracks  where you hadn’t time to wipe it off. While it’s not deep, it stings terribly when you close your hand, so it lays open, resting against your leg. It pulses warm with a dull throb, while every other part of you seems cold.

 

When the giant opened up the earth, it was swallowed up. Sinking down with a deep groan as it descends back to the earth while everything shook. You yourself had almost fallen, if Dirk didn’t come to rescue you.

 

If, you didn’t get scared, if you didn’t run right into trouble. You could have been more help. But instead you ran. Ran right past him, and he got caught when it should have been you.

Everything you are curls into itself with a wave of shame. Wound on the palm reopening with the way you dig your nails into fists. It doesn’t matter, the stinging just reminds you of what lengths Dirk had to go to cover your stupid ass. A whimper forms on your throat, fizzling out past your lips, but it’s enough to see Dirk snapping up and fixing you with a piercing stare. Your vision goes blurry -fuck no not now-, biting your tongue but to no avail. Next thing you know you’re crying like a damned baby and wedging your face in your legs. Hiding what can already be heard at this point.

 

But nothing can prepare you for when Dirk is suddenly by your side, settling down so close your his armour slides against yours in an awkward fashion. It’s not even your skin but it sends shivers up your spine, ending in a nasty wet hiccup. You’re sure he’s going to reprimand you now for all that you’ve done and especially crying over it, but the stern words never come. Instead, it’s an arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer. And with the way that you’re rolled into a ball it’s fairly easy to wobble nearly into his lap.

 

“Mm…” Dirk starts, low voice full of uncertainties and hesitation, “It’s, okay.” The hand resting on your arm starts to pat with light irregular beats. You still haven’t figured out to shut off the waterworks, so you remain sniveling into Dirk’s side while he flusters for more words. Little ‘mm’s and ‘uh’s dotting the air between your sobs. He just winds up repeating ‘it’s okay’ a few times and slowly you’re calming down.

 

Once you can manage words, your raising your head, brushing over Dirk’s chest, an apology on your lips. Propping yourself up with a hand on the ground in front of you both, you turn to face him more fully.

 

But when you meet his eyes, so intense the blazing shade of copper, you realize that you had no idea of what else to say! You’re stuck there, staring at him for what seems like eternity while he stares back. Vaguely puzzled, and maybe just a smidge of  sadness remaining. You’re close, too close, but you can’t find it in yourself to back away now.

 

It’s not you, but Dirk that leans forward. Slower that you could ever imagine, and you find your eyes slipping shut of their own accord. It’s as if just by the closeness you’re charmed into relaxing. Nothing has ever made you feel more at peace than this. You shouldn’t really be, but there is no space to feel guilt here. Not when Dirk ever so carefully presses his lips to the top of your forehead, then ghosting down to the tip of your nose.

 

It comes as a whisper: “I’m sorry to have scared you.” His breath ghosting over you face in the strangest way. You find the hand not propping yourself up sandwiched between his own. “I shouldn’t have expected that you would have stood your ground while you were the only thing mountain man could see. And-” he takes a moment to swallow, “is your hand okay?”

 

Dumbfounded by his soft words, you merely blurt a little ‘mhm’ to which he huffs. Most likely not believing your word. It’s so strange, he’s never acted like this before, or, as long as you’ve known him. The feeling it gives is something that makes your cheeks flush. And now he can see it too, the mess you are. Having just cried and now so up close and personal with the man who’s rescued you time and time again you think.

 

You think you might be his damsel in some way.

 

_ Oh god. _

 

Now you’re really flushed. The idea he might of had some  _ romantic attachment _ to you is so utterly outlandish and dare you say, hedonistic, you might just keel over and die. Sure he’s been your guardian for quite some time and every step of the way he had no real obligation to have you along, but, certainly it doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

 

You come upon the realization that you now sort of wish it does.

 

Slowly easing from your own little world of flustered pondering, you realize you’re leaning completely against Dirk’s chest. All tension draining from your body to be replaced by his comfort. Slowly, to be ensnared by his embrace. You give up all worries as if you’re being smothered out of the very idea of thinking. You can’t even give a damn what Dirk thinks of this. Only that he’s rescuing you, again (albeit thoughts aren’t a very deadly enemy).

The last words you find in a low murmur are to thank Dirk, for all that he’s done.


End file.
